Roland

Roland

Mom,
While it gives me immense pleasure to have you read me, from time to time, one might also deduce that you discover offense where there is none.
I have often detailed in my blog what an unbearable shit I was as a child. Even more so, it seems, as an adult.
This is plainly borne out in your quick reaction and willingness to comepletely disown, discard, forgo your very own Son, for what you percieved as a slight to the memory of your Father, my Grandfather. A perception in error.
I was denied by my own Mother. Her refusing to even respond to a very heartfelt and desperate plea to review those perceptions and perhaps conclude, as anyone else did, that it was instead a loving tribute to a very fond memory, of a very dear Man.
But no…instead, she thought to have my despicable Sister send me vile correspondence and convey the clear message that our Mother had but one Son, not two.
Got it. Understood.
Yet, you seem to think, again, that you have in some way been misaligned by my words. That my inferring that I was unbearable as a child, is in some way a personal affront to you. That those “you love dearly” are forever striving to hurt your feelings.
You might understand how, in light of your easy dismissal of me as your Son, your claim could be thought frivolous.
My Family could not bear me, for good reason.
Nor I, them.
You have, in me, a mutual ally in no longer beating ourselves up, if nothing else.